


From Me to You

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 07:11:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7675012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Shougo shared</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Me to You

Shougo claims to be totally uninterested in Ryouta’s schedule, which classes he’s taking and what modelling jobs he’s going for, but he doesn’t mean it in the slightest. Ryouta can see through his words like they’re one of those disposable clear plastic ponchos, because Shougo almost always shows up after a test or a tough audition to meet him, claiming that he’s just in the neighborhood or that he’d gotten bored so he might as well show up, and even though Shougo doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of hearing it Ryouta’s always glad he’s there.

Like today, when he’s exhausted after contorting his body for this photo shoot all day and it’s raining and he’d forgotten an umbrella but Shougo has his, the fabric sliding up one broken spoke but still with enough room for both of them to squeeze under it (or maybe Shougo had done it on purpose for that excuse, which is so typical but Ryouta can’t totally fault him for orchestrating events so they’ll both enjoy it). He’ll probably say Ryouta’s not allowed to go under, but he’ll make room anyway and it’s as much about the protest as it is about the act itself.

Shougo ducks under the awning to join him, and thrusts out the umbrella so Ryouta flinches away from the dripping water. He’s also holding a cup of coffee in his other hand, extending it toward Ryouta.

“I’m done with the coffee. You can finish it if you want.”

It’s probably cold, and Shougo takes his coffee with brown sugar and no cream and it’s kind of disgusting, but Ryouta needs caffeine right now, everything else be damned. He takes the cup, and it’s warm; his fingers curl around it and he takes a cautious sip. It tastes like the brand of sweetener that he likes; there’s no cream but it’s definitely a compromise and Shougo had intended to share it with him from the get-go.

His cheeks are slightly flushed even in the cold, and he shakes the umbrella again.

“Get under here if you’re going to.”

“Of course,” says Ryouta, taking another sip of the coffee before sidling up to Shougo. “Are you sure you’re done with this?”

“Maybe not,” says Shougo, and he snaches back the coffee.

It’s very cute the way he’s staring ahead, the way he sniffles as the hot coffee takes effect. After all, Ryouta’s in a prime position to see it.

* * *

The bathroom mirror is always foggy when Ryouta gets out of the shower in the morning, and it’s not his fault he’s thorough with his cleaning. But Shougo’s always standing in front of the mirror scowling, trying to wipe the mirror’s face off with the end of the towel draped around his neck. Half of his face is covered in shaving cream (it’s not always the same half; Shougo isn’t one to be exact in his routines and maybe that’s why he usually ends up missing a spot under his chin or right by his ear) and his arms are crossed and it would be kind of cute if he didn’t bark at Ryouta to open the window and let some air in.

When Ryouta comes back Shougo’s still not done; he never is. He’s taking up unnecessarily space, leaning close to the mirror and scraping the razor down his skin.

“Shougo-kun…”

“What?”

“Move over.”

“No. Let me finish.”

Ryouta sighs and grabs his washcloth from the towel rack. He elbows Shougo out of the way to get to the faucet and wet the cloth, and he begins to rinse his face. And by the time he’s lowered the washcloth and starts to look for the moisturizer, Shougo’s moved just a little bit to the left, enough for Ryouta to squeeze in. He dabs the lotion on his face; Shougo moves over again. This time it’s obvious, as much as he tries to pass it off as casual motion while he’s wiping the razorblade on the towel. And he’s so stubborn and immature about this, but it’s cute anyway. Their eyes meet in the mirror and Shougo looks like he’s about to blush. Ryouta smiles.

* * *

Shougo is too cute sometimes when he thinks Ryouta’s not looking, like when he bobs his head to invisible music while he washes the dishes or the faces he makes when he’s testing out a new recipe or when he’s looking at cat pictures on the internet (and Shougo can deny he thinks they’re cute all he wants, but he’s never been a good liar). And like right now, when he’s huddled on the couch in front of the TV with a blanket draped around him and his legs tucked up beside him. Another thing Shougo’s always been bad at is admitting he’s cold; he claims it’s not manly to be cold or some shit (and Ryouta always replies that it’s not very manly to lose a toe to frostbite when you could have turned up the heat and avoided the whole thing in the first place) and then can’t hide his shivering. (It’s cute when he cuddles up to Ryouta in his sleep in the winter, too, except then Ryouta gets hot because they’re already under the down comforter and all the other blankets.)

“Hey, Shougo-kun.”

Shougo whips his head around. “What?”

Ryouta shrugs. “What are you watching?”

“Just some show,” says Shougo.

Ryouta plops down next to him. It is pretty cold in the living room, probably because Shougo had left the window open. Ryouta pulls down the cuffs of his sweater to cover his hands, curling his toes (he’s kind of glad he’d kept his socks on).

“Cold?” says Shougo.

Ryouta almost rolls his eyes (because really, Shougo?) but it doesn’t matter because Shougo throws the blanket awkwardly over his shoulders and scoots closer. And then his arm snakes around Ryouta’s shoulders; his skin is clearly cold through Ryouta’s sweater but coming from Shougo this is nearly sweet. Ryouta kisses him on the cheek.

“Thank you for sharing with me.”

“I’m not,” Shougo says, half-automatically (and oh, he’s blushing and his cheeks are puffed out).

“Oh?” says Ryouta.

“Yeah,” says Shougo and then he slides a cold hand under Ryouta’s sweater and Ryouta yelps. “This was the point.”

“Right,” says Ryouta, pulling Shougo closer and kissing him on the cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> haikise week day 4: sharing!


End file.
